How social media's echo chambers make us forget we're not that different
Hi, I’m Omar, the founder and CEO of Kinnect. This blog is part of the From Omar series, where I reflect on family, relationships, and the ideas that drive the work we’re doing at Kinnect. It’s not about perfect answers — it’s about raw, human reflections that I’m still navigating.
There’s something strange that happens on social media. It’s like everyone becomes a "character" instead of a person. You’re not seeing the full version of someone — you’re seeing the highlights, the hot takes, or the parts that trigger the most response.
The algorithm is designed to show you the loudest voices. And when those voices get louder, we start to believe that they represent everyone.
Here’s what I’ve realized, though — the person you know offline is rarely the same person you see online.
I’ve seen it with family members. You know the ones. The uncle who posts wild conspiracy theories but shows up to family cookouts ready to share a plate of rice and beans with you. The cousin who’s always going off in the comments but will send you a text saying, "Proud of you" when you achieve something big.
That’s the thing about people. We’re complex. We’re not "just one thing." But social media makes it easy to forget that. It makes it easy to think, "This person is one-dimensional," and that’s when the distance starts.
When I think about Kinnect, I think about how it can help bridge that distance. What if, instead of seeing someone’s “highlight reel,” we saw their reflections, their raw thoughts, and their deeper stories? What if we had spaces where people could share the parts of themselves that don’t fit into a post?
Echo chambers make us think we’re more divided than we are
Social media echo chambers aren’t just "annoying" — they’re dangerous.
Here’s how they work:
- You engage with certain posts.
- The algorithm shows you more of that same content.
- Over time, you’re surrounded by only the ideas you agree with.
It feels like everyone is "on your side" — until you scroll past someone who isn’t. And suddenly, it feels personal.
But I’ve been thinking about this: Do you really know what the people in your family believe? Or do you just think you do?
I’ve caught myself doing this. I’ll assume that my cousins see things the same way I do — only to have a conversation and realize, “Oh, we’re not on the same page at all.” But instead of letting that make me feel distant from them, I’m learning to lean in.
Because here’s what I’ve learned — just because we see things differently doesn’t mean we are different.
We’re still family. We still want love. We still want security. We still want to be seen.
When I think about how social media divides us, I think about how Kinnect can do the opposite. What if instead of curating the content you see, we curated the questions you ask? What if the prompts you got from family weren’t about "who’s right" but about "what do you think about this?”
That’s the space I’m trying to build.
Why family is the best proof we’re not that different
If you really want proof that we’re more alike than different, just look at family.
Family is where all the contrasts live. You’ll have one sibling who’s super logical and one who’s emotional. One cousin who went to college and another who built a business from scratch. You’ll have family members with strong political views on every side of the spectrum.
And yet, when something happens — like a wedding, a birth, or a funeral — suddenly none of that matters. You’re all just people again. Sharing stories. Eating meals. Telling each other to “take care” on the way out the door.
It’s family. It’s shared humanity.
That’s what I want Kinnect to remind people of. Not in a "big, grand" way, but in the small, quiet moments. In the way your uncle might record a memory about his first job, or your mom might answer a prompt about her childhood dreams.
These moments are where you see how alike you really are.
Why Kinnect is building for connection (not perfection)
I think about the role Kinnect can play in helping people see each other. Not the curated version. Not the filtered one. But the version that’s raw, honest, and human.
Right now, most social apps aren’t designed to help you connect in that way. They’re designed for performance. Post your best. Get the most likes. Show them what you want them to see.
But that’s not connection. That’s presentation.
With Kinnect, I’m hoping for something different. I want people to be able to reflect, to be real, and to show parts of themselves that they don’t show anywhere else.
That means no “likes” or “comments” or “going viral.” It means focusing on shared humanity, family stories, and vulnerability. It’s about building something that lasts.
Because when you strip away the noise, the filters, and the perfectly framed posts, what’s left?
People. Real people. Family. Love. Memories.
What I hope people take away from this
If you’ve made it this far, I hope you’ll pause for a second and think about this:
Who’s someone in your family that you feel distant from right now?
Not because of distance — but because of beliefs.
What would it look like to reach out to them? Not to "fix" them. Not to "debate" them. But just to ask them a real question.
Here’s a question I’ve been thinking about asking someone in my life
“What’s something you’ve been reflecting on lately?”
It’s open-ended. It’s not confrontational. It doesn’t require them to "prove" anything. It just gives them space to be human.
That’s what I’m working on right now. Building Kinnect in a way that makes it easier for people to ask thoughtful questions like that — with family, with friends, and even with themselves.
We’re not that different. I believe that. And I believe that if we build better tools for connection, we can remember that more often.
abrazos,
omar
